


Keep in Touch

by F00T



Category: Sonic the Hedgehog (2020)
Genre: Anal Play, Butt Plugs, Crack Treated Seriously, Dubious Science, M/M, Morse Code, Post-Canon, Teleportation, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23712265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F00T/pseuds/F00T
Summary: Agent Stone has taken it upon himself to keep watch for the missing Doctor Robotnik. Meanwhile, on the Mushroom Planet, the Doctor stumbles on a most novel way to contact his former assistant to coordinate his return to Earth.
Relationships: Dr. Eggman | Dr. Robotnik/Agent Stone
Comments: 21
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

Agent Stone had waited for him. 

He hoped, one day, he’d be able to tell him in person.

He didn’t expect the Doctor to believe him, at least not openly. Agent Stone had long made peace with that. He had spent enough time around the Doctor to know that he would never admit to needing assistance from another person. He showed his appreciation in smaller ways, such as how he ran his hands over his computer keyboards just a hair slower after Stone had dusted them. Or the way he eased his shoulders into his coats, assertively and always paired with a turning-up of lips and a small nod of his head, when Stone had done a particularly good job of ironing them.

Agent Stone was good at noticing the little things.

He wanted to believe that was why the Doctor had left him in charge of his base of operations when he had taken off after that strange, blue anomaly that had captured all his attention as of late. He had dutifully monitored his hovercraft’s whereabouts through its GPS coordinates, plotting its course even as it appeared to teleport haphazardly all over the world. (Had the anomaly somehow affected the ship’s programming, causing the location data to glitch? Surely, the Doctor would have anticipated even such a rare possibility as that when he wrote the code.) When the ship disappeared from his view entirely, he had noticed that as well. Agent Stone had watched the screen and forced down his ever-growing anxiety as he waited for it to blip back into view. It didn’t come. 

Days later, it still hadn’t come.

And so Agent Stone had noted the exact time and place of the Doctor’s disappearance, contacted the law enforcement agency operating in that jurisdiction for any surveillance footage they had of the area, and reported all of this to his Commanding Officer. 

And then, he waited for him.

He had fallen into his new routine more easily than he had thought: wake at 0600 and check for the Doctor’s tracking signal, wash up, make himself coffee, and perform every diagnostic check on the robots that the Doctor considered rudimentary enough for him to learn. Every twenty minutes, he would check again for the Doctor’s tracking signal. Twice a day, at 1000 and 1800, he contacted his Commanding Officer with his situation report on the whereabouts of Dr. Ivo Robotnik. And every time he sent it, this report consisted of only two words: status unknown.

Agent Stone didn’t start to worry until the first week had passed with no change in status. The Doctor had always insisted that he was the smartest person in the world and Stone had never found any reason to doubt him on that. Surely, wherever he was, he could take care of himself. He had a plan. The Doctor always had a plan. It was one of the many things Stone had admired about him. What truly concerned him was the possibility that the Doctor’s plan, whatever it was, didn’t involve him coming back. 

He knew that his life had existed before he had been hand-selected to be the Doctor’s handler, but he struggled to remember what that was even like. That portion of his memories was fuzzy, faded into gray compared to everything that he had been through after the day he had been briefed on Dr. Robotnik and how to best monitor his activities in the service of the US Department of Defense. The files he was given on him were extensive, describing him as egomaniacal. Narcissistic. Difficult. Looking back, Agent Stone knew that his subject fit the most technical definition of those words, but he had personally never found the Doctor anything short of brilliant. 

After the first week, Agent Stone began collecting memories.

It had started with a shopping list. 

He had thought it was an ordinary scrap of paper at first, one that in any other circumstance, he would use to scribble down an account password and tuck underneath his keyboard, only for the Doctor to later scold him about. “You fool!” he’d shout. “You amoeba-brained buffoon, no wonder this country needs me to save them when their special agents can’t even be trusted with basic internet security!” Sometimes he would eat the paper to drive his point home. Stone had always appreciated his concern. But upon further examination, he had found that this bit of ephemera contained no outdated login information and instead a list of all the items the Doctor sent him on errands for on what felt like a daily basis: coffee beans, mustache wax, so many yards of electrical cables of every possible size and plug configuration. It was barely anything in the grand scheme of things, but it felt like a piece of the Doctor now that he had apparently disappeared from his world. Agent Stone found an unused drawer and stashed the list in it. 

A bar of soap, partially used, was added to the drawer next. Then, a set of Allen wrenches found behind a mess of cords under his computer terminal made their way into his collection. A spare external hard drive, its data long since wiped. A toothbrush, unused. An unopened package of his favorite deli meat. Agent Stone knew how particular the Doctor was about the brands of food he liked and treasured the memory of the first time he got all the correct ones. He had stared, wide-eyed and flustered (and afterwards, refused to admit that he was either), at Stone’s grocery haul, and was unable to find any fault in it. After a rare moment of tense silence from the Doctor, he had sighed and told him that perhaps, even the dimmest of light bulbs could manage to shine in the right circumstances.

Agent Stone had briefly considered having those words tattooed before deciding against it out of concern that it wouldn’t meet DOD dress code.

He was briefly torn about adding the discarded sock he found to his cache of memories, but ultimately decided to leave it out. He wanted something that had touched the Doctor’s skin once, something that he could hold and imagine the Doctor holding in kind. Stone had felt sentimental when he had given the sock a sniff, trying his best to inhale whatever lingering scent the Doctor had left behind for him, and instead only got a noseful of dust, presumably collected from the inner workings of his robots. A spare pair of gloves was located shortly after; Stone was quietly thankful to be able to replace the dust sock with them. Every time he ran a fingertip over the smooth black leather, the precisely stitched seams, the electroconductive patches bonded to the palms, Agent Stone couldn’t help but miss every time the Doctor saw fit to lay his hands on him.

Those memories were all recent, and quite easily his most treasured. It had started with the Doctor’s hand on his chin, gripping it hard as he pulled their faces in close. Agent Stone hadn’t flinched at the Doctor scolding him then, his mouth close enough that he could feel his breath hot against his cheek. None of the Doctor’s antics surprised him at that point. The inverse, he soon noticed, wasn’t true. He could feel the Doctor’s eyes drilling into him just as hard as his fingers were in that moment, almost daring him to cower before him. To prostrate himself. Instead, Stone’s calm, compliant nonreaction in the face of his rage was something the Doctor found most curious. Something worth investigating much further.

The Doctor had first experimented with humiliation in his attempts to draw his desired reaction out of him, though it had proven ineffective after all the casual verbal abuse he had subjected Agent Stone to up until that point. Restraints were more effective, but barely so; the Doctor had no patience for ensuring compliance through physical means. Besides, he had said, Agent Stone only appeared to find pleasure in following his commands. What he really wanted was to see what it would take to see Agent Stone suffer a little bit at the same time.

Distraction, he soon found, was what did the trick.

Agent Stone had saved the item in question, unsure whether it was suitable for his drawer of memories or deserved a place of higher honor. It was a stout plug the Doctor had made for him after spending an afternoon taking extremely detailed and intimate measurements; a bulbous egg of white plastic and titanium at one end and a gently flared base at the other. He had rigged it up with a strong motor that could be programmed to rumble with great intensity deep inside him with the smallest gesture from his fingers. The Doctor had never forced it into him himself, instead preferring to watch Agent Stone open himself up and slowly insert it at his request. He recalled that the Doctor was particularly fond of ordering him to do so before briefings, when he could set the egg vibrating hard against Stone’s prostate with the slightest flick of his hand, though even the very pressure and weight of the plug inside him was enough to drive him mad most days.

A very treasured memory indeed.

After the first week, he had begun wearing the egg during those twice-daily reports, just for old time’s sake, but he quickly realized that it wasn’t the same. The basic sensation of the plug was as he remembered it, so much so that he found himself penciling in daily masturbation sessions at 1100 and 1900, but what had really made the exercise so enjoyable for him was the fear that accompanied it when the Doctor was in control. He missed the tension of not knowing when, or even if, the egg's motor would be activated, and at what strength and tempo, and if he would even be able to control himself in front of his superiors. Without that fear, the egg felt like a poor imitation of itself, but he continued to wear it for a few hours every day, if only to keep his memory of the Doctor fresh. At the very least, the way it filled him and the knowledge that the Doctor had put so much time and effort into designing it specifically for his body comforted him, even if he was unable to access its full potential. He had made several attempts to revive the vibration function, examining the surface of the egg in great detail and testing out the gloves from his memory drawer, but it appeared that facet of the plug’s construction would always be off limits to him.

So Agent Stone continued with his daily routine, collecting memories of the Doctor while checking his status every twenty minutes and reporting it as unknown once in the morning and again in the afternoon.

After the second week, exactly eighteen days, four hours, and twenty-nine minutes since Dr. Ivo Robotnik was first presumed MIA from the Earth itself, Agent Stone felt the egg vibrate furiously inside his ass.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Stone jerks off a whole bunch. 
> 
> For science.

It didn’t occur to Agent Stone until after he had finished exactly how much an emergency third masturbation session would throw off his daily schedule. In the moment, he didn’t care; it felt as if it had been years since he’d last felt the familiar, high frequency thumping of the Doctor’s electric egg against his prostate. He wanted to savor it to the fullest, taking in the sensations and forbidding himself to touch himself until he could no longer stand it (just like if the Doctor was still here with him, activating the egg’s motor as if it were some inconsequential thing and only acknowledging Agent Stone’s suffering to scold his lack of mental fortitude when he finally succumbed to the device.) If the Doctor had been present, he would have gotten himself off quickly, coaxed to completion by his insults, but he took his time now, stroking himself firm and slow with a swirl of his thumb every time it passed the tip of his cock. The vibrations grew more and more unbearable with every stroke until he finally blew his load, coating his fist and splattering on a nearby counter top as he milked himself dry.

He could hear the Doctor’s voice in his head as he slumped against the counter top and gingerly pulled the still-buzzing egg from his rear. “Are you finished, Stone?” it demanded. “Are you proud of the mess you’ve made of my lab? Clean it up, you frivolous halfwit, and you better not have shorted any circuits with your...fluids.”

The plug, he noticed, suddenly grew still within a minute of him removing it. How curious, he thought. The device had never appeared to have an automatic shutoff function before.

Agent Stone cleaned himself up, wiped down and sanitized the counter he’d ejaculated on, checked the monitors for the Doctor’s tracking signal, and made himself a light dinner. Putting the incident behind him and returning to his normal routine seemed like his best course of action.

And yet, he couldn’t get what had happened with the egg out of his mind.

Surely, he couldn’t have unknowingly triggered the motor by mistake. He had spent far too many hours trying to do so intentionally that setting it off by accident, especially while it was already fully inserted, seemed impossible. He also ruled out the possibility of malfunction. The Doctor’s machines never malfunctioned. Agent Stone remembered when he had once, only days after accepting this position, suggested that such a thing was always possible. The Doctor had commanded him to lie on the floor and be his rug for the rest of the day since his intellect was clearly no higher than that of carpeting.

No, the only one who could activate the egg’s motor was the Doctor, and there was no evidence that he was even on the planet any more.

Perhaps he had handed off backup control of the egg to another person before his disappearance? This was almost more unlikely than if he was controlling it himself despite being MIA; the Doctor loathed other people and didn’t even trust them to collect his garbage or deliver his junk mail. He only barely tolerated Agent Stone (as much as he hated to admit it) and that was only because Stone could function as a go-between for him and all the people in the world that he truly despised. The chances of the Doctor willingly interacting with another human being long enough to convince them to take on secondary control of his assistant’s vibrating butt plug were infinitesimally small.

In the end, Agent ruled the entire incident to be a fluke and made a promise to himself to leave the egg in its drawer from now on. As pleasant as it was, he had ended up dedicating far too much of his day to it. He didn’t need any distractions from locating the Doctor. That was far more important than his ability to get himself off.

Agent Stone made it to 1830 the next day before the egg was back up his ass.

And once again, the vibrations returned.

Curious, indeed.

He made note of the time when the egg’s motor activated before he succumbed and jerked himself to completion, quickly this time so as not to disrupt his schedule nearly as much as he had the day before. It hadn’t occurred to Agent Stone to document the exact time of the first incident, but he did have documentation (or lack thereof) of all the activities in his daily schedule he was unable to complete due to pleasuring himself. He couldn’t help but notice that both incidents had occurred at roughly the same time. Perhaps the egg’s motor was on an automatic timer, set to activate if it didn’t receive input from the Doctor after a certain number of days? Agent Stone was satisfied with this explanation briefly, until he remembered that he had been timing his own use of the egg to when he gave his briefings to his commanding officer. 

More testing was required.

The following day, Agent Stone abstained from using the egg during his evening briefing. An hour passed, then two, and the device remained motionless next to his computer terminal.

By 2100, curiosity got the better of him and Agent Stone slipped the plug in before turning in for the night. The motor came roaring to life. He didn’t sleep until 2245.

The following day, he did his morning diagnostic checks, monitored the Doctor’s lack of GPS signal, and gave his 1100 status report, exactly the same as he had done every day since the Doctor’s disappearance. He then wiped every routine task from his schedule for the rest of the afternoon and began greasing up the egg.

Agent Stone was comforted by how quickly his body had reacclimated to the device. When the Doctor had first built it, the plug had been for special occasions only; its usage slowly increased as Stone’s tolerance grew and the Doctor’s whims dictated. Eventually, he’d been made to wear it as frequently as two or three times a week, although this had stopped abruptly once the government had entrusted the investigation and apprehension of the anomaly in Montana. That was of far greater interest to the Doctor than anything involving Stone’s ass. He couldn’t blame him for the slight; Agent Stone was well aware that, at the end of the day, business always came before pleasure. Still, the gap in usage had meant that adjusting to inserting the plug daily had been quite rough going at first now that he was able to do so whenever he pleased.

Ever since he had begun incorporating the egg into his daily routine, Agent Stone had to stretch himself with his fingers for several minutes before he was able to accommodate the egg, but today he noticed he was able to squeeze it in with only a generous dollop of lube. A very good sign, he thought. Shortly after it was inserted, the motor inside the plug began its familiar hum. To be expected. Agent Stone gripped his cock firmly and tried his best to match its pace.

His rhythm was thrown off completely when he felt the motor pause briefly before beginning to pulse, alternating between short bursts of sensation and longer, dull thuds hammering into his prostate.

Agent Stone had dread when the Doctor would incorporate vibration patterns into his usage of the egg. They teased at his anus, frustrating and overstimulating him to the point where it was near impossible for him to get off as quickly as he wanted. He had never told the Doctor this outright, but the man was perceptive enough to figure it out within seconds of watching Agent Stone squirm. He was at least thankful that the Doctor resorted to such things when he was particularly bored. Or cranky. Or under-stimulated. All three things were the same to him, Stone had quickly learned.

But this pattern wasn’t one he could recall the Doctor ever using on him before, though he still recognized it immediately. Three short pulses, followed by three long, and then three short again. Agent Stone knew a distress signal when he heard it.

But that meant…

No.

Agent Stone yanked the egg from his ass, gasping at the sudden force against his tensed sphincter. The motor repeated the pattern twice more in his hand before ceasing. The implications were too preposterous to even consider. All this time, he had remained hopeful that the Doctor would make contact with him, from wherever he was, but like this? Through his butt plug? It was absurd. Utterly impractical. Besides, despite how often the Doctor reminded him that he knew nothing of the intricacies and perfection of machines, Agent Stone did know that whatever wireless connection the Doctor used to control the anal egg should require some degree of proximity to work. Even when he accounted for the Doctor’s brilliance, he knew that there were always limitations to the reach of a wi-fi signal. At the very least, he would have to be in the same building as him to control the device like this, let alone on the same planet. It was impossible. The very idea that his masturbation session could be interrupted by a coded message from a sex toy was so nuts that he didn’t even want to entertain the possibility.

Agent Stone held his dick, still semi-hard, in his hand. He tried his best to work out an orgasm, but he couldn’t get back into the right head space for it. Surely, such a basic, repetitive pattern could have just been a coincidence. It was just something easily programmable, a short sequence that was simple to loop. He tried to push the possibilities to the back of his mind so he could get back to work.

And yet.

He knew Morse code when he heard it. And the most well-known of universal distress calls? Surely, he thought, it was intentional. It must be. Agent Stone had spent far too long studying Morse code, from when he had first taught himself in grade school and earned a scout merit badge that earned him years of bullying from the rest of his troop to when he proudly listed on his government job application that he could copy code at over 50 words per minute only to be told in his interview that no one in the intelligence field actually used Morse code any more. He had never told the Doctor this, but surely he must have known. He had been given access to Agent Stone’s personnel file when they began working together; he was sure Morse code was listed alongside the other ten languages he was fluent in. 

Agent Stone checked the computer terminals for a more legitimate signal from the Doctor. He wanted something unambiguous, any message that was clearly and undeniably transmitted by Dr. Robotnik. Something that he could pass on to his superiors. Something that wasn’t received through his ass. Something, anything at all, that wouldn’t immediately get him laughed out of the Defense Department.

He saw nothing. 

Just like every other time he had checked the monitors.

Agent Stone made himself a sandwich and cleaned the Doctor’s lab from floor to ceiling. Anything to take his mind off of that day’s experiments with the egg. When he delivered his status report that evening, he didn’t mention the potential distress signal. He wanted to be absolutely sure about the origin and contents of any potential messages he received before including them in his report and he still wasn’t entirely convinced that what he had felt was even a message to begin with. It was definitely mysterious, to be sure, but there was no way the sensations he was feeling could be of any interest to national security. While he treasured the plug, he didn’t need it distracting him from his work any more than it already had. It should have stayed in the drawer with the rest of his memories of the Doctor where it belonged.

That evening, Agent Stone lubed up the egg for one last session before he stored it away for good. He took his time easing it inside himself, breathing slowly as he steeled himself to not think any harder than he already had about potentially feeling the S-O-S rhythm looping against his prostate. 

The vibrations came once again, and the pattern once as well. Agent Stone tried his best not to acknowledge them as they teased him from inside. He had missed his chance to get off earlier that day and the last thing he wanted was to focus so heavily on what the vibrations could mean that he couldn’t get hard.

And then he noticed that the pattern had changed.

It was subtle, but it was definitely different. It began with three short pulses like just like before, then one long, a group of three long pulses, then a long and short, followed by a single short pulse. A brief pause, and then the pattern repeated. 

S-T-O-N-E

S-T-O-N-E

His own name throbbed inside his butt as he fondled himself, his grip growing more firm with every repetition. His own name, unambiguous. He barely registered the warmth of his semen in his hand when he finally came from how preoccupied he was with feeling the pulse of his name, goading him into orgasm.

The situation had changed. Everything had changed.

There was no way he could just stash the egg away now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agent Stone was definitely the one boy scout who gets fucking LIT over learning appropriate knots to tie in extremely niche circumstances.
> 
> Thank you everyone who's enjoying this <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Robotnik makes contact and Agent Stone makes a mess.

Agent Stone couldn’t sleep that night. 

He knew what he felt. He knew what it meant. He knew that the Doctor was alive and trying to open a channel of communication with him by any means necessary. Emphasis on any. The thought of how to tactfully report this to his C.O. still eluded him. 

Messages transmitted via sensitive means? Too vague, he might be asked to elaborate.

Vibratory data transmissions, received per anum? Absolutely not, he’d be laughed out of his own briefing.

Perhaps the best option was to say the Doctor had achieved a wireless connection to one of his machines and not specify which one. He’d figured out shortly after accepting this position that his higher-ups didn’t care much for the intricacies of the Doctor’s inventions, only that they remained in service to national security. They only cared about the capabilities of his automatons and nothing else. It was one of the first things the Doctor had told him when he started, his voice acidic and drenched in scorn for every government official who had come before Stone, all of whom had clearly been too feeble-minded to comprehend the brilliance of his creations.

Agent Stone knew better than to admit that he didn’t comprehend the inner workings of quite a few of the Doctor’s machines, but that wasn’t his job. Right now, his primary objective was to establish a line of communication with the Doctor and report on anything he received. The Department of Defense didn’t need to know how, specifically. They only needed to know what was being said and Stone was plenty skilled in transcription.

The following morning, Agent Stone showered, ate, and inserted the egg. He didn’t need to wait long before it whirred to life. He bit his lip and braced himself in his chair with pen and paper at the ready, immediately noticing that the message had changed once again.

S-T-O-N-E A-R-E Y-O-U T-H-E-R-E S-Q-U-E-E-Z-E T-H-E E-G-G

Agent Stone clenched, moaning slightly when doing so forced him to place more pressure on his prostate.

G-O-O-D T-H-E E-G-G H-A-S P-R-E-S-S-U-R-E A-N-D T-E-M-P-E-R-A-T-U-R-E S-E-N-S-O-R-S S-O I C-A-N T-E-L-L W-H-E-N Y-O-U A-R-E L-I-S-T-E-N-I-N-G

Stone’s non-dominant hand drifted down to his cock as the Doctor’s words throbbed in his ass. His handwriting, its neatness something he had been commended for since primary school, grew sloppy as he jerked roughly at himself. At least now he had an explanation for why the Doctor’s messages only came when the plug was inserted: he could detect the change in body heat and therefore deduce when Stone was wearing the device. He could feel the intense heat of blood rushing into his erection as he fondled himself along with every letter. It was overwhelming; in all the weeks since the Doctor’s disappearance, he had made a list of questions fifty-seven pages long which he wanted to ask in the event that communication was ever established but now his mind was emptied of nearly all of them in response to his ass being stimulated so powerfully. Only one remained, and Agent Stone was thankful for its succinctness. He gasped as he tightened his sphincter in code, squeezing out “where are you?”

The Doctor’s answer came just as Agent Stone felt precum dripping from the tip of his cock.

N-O-T E-A-R-T-H A P-L-A-N-E-T A-P-P-R-O-X T-E-N K-I-L-O-P-A-R-S-E-C-S A-W-A-Y B-Y M-Y M-E-A-S-U-R-E-M-E-N-T-S N-O I-N-T-E-L-L-I-G-E-N-T L-I-F-E B-U-T P-L-E-N-T-Y O-F M-U-S-H-R-

Agent Stone groaned loudly as he came, pulling the egg from his ass just as its stimulation grew too powerful for him to bear. He slumped forward at his desk, his cock in one hand and the now-motionless plug in the other. For the first time in his life, the semen splattered over his fist and stomach filled him with disappointment and shame. He felt like he had failed, not only the Doctor but also his country, for not being able to document the message to its completion. The Doctor was on another planet entirely, over halfway across the galaxy. Unbelievable. But everything leading up to this moment was so unbelievable that, when taken as a whole, Agent Stone knew they must be true. He knew his chain of command would have questions. A glance at a nearby clock showed that he had approximately three hours to formulate an explanation but Stone knew he was still too buried in his post-orgasmic haze to do so properly right then.

He did know one thing. If this was how the Doctor intended to make contact with Earth, he would need to train his body to be receptive to it sooner rather than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for not having a regular update schedule for this thing, I can assure you that I do know where it's going and I have zero plans to leave it unfinished. It just might take a bit, due to IRL job responsibilities and their associated stress (I'm a healthcare worker, though not a patient-facing one.)
> 
> Thank you all for believing in this cursed concept!

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I am new to this fandom and I solemnly swear I am committed to doing my very best to sell anyone who's open to it on the extremely cursed concept of Robotnik and Stone communicating across the far reaches of space via a teledildonic butt plug.


End file.
